Blog posts tagged with "river teeth"

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Kevin Honold Wins 2019 River Teeth Book Prize

Kevin Honold Wins 2019 River Teeth Book Prize May 12, 2020
We are thrilled to announce that Kevin Honold is the winner of this year’s River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Book Prize. His winning manuscript, The Rock Cycle, will be published by the University of New Mexico Press in Spring 2021.

Megan Stielstra To Judge the 2020 River Teeth Book Prize

Megan Stielstra To Judge the 2020 River Teeth Book Prize May 11, 2020
We are delighted to announce that acclaimed author, Megan Stielstra will judge the 2020 River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Book Prize.

The Ladder Tree

The Ladder Tree By Beth Taylor   |  December 7, 2015
Hand-built, smoothed gray with age, the stubby ladder rests against the old apple tree, its gnarled bark accepting the still, hopeful embrace of the rails and rungs once climbed by a child when this tree by its stone wall watched over a field of corn, or was it cows, instead of this fervent jungle – green vines wrapping bushes and spindly trees, sprung from seeds blown down by wind-flung torrents of rain, and allowed to grow, unchecked by the farmer, father of that child, both now long gone, their spirits left behind, lurking in nature’s veils that canopy the path, dappling sun into shade as we walk on a summer's day, wondering: what child, living how, climbed to pick, or to see, so long ago; and accepting, as we wander, our own graying but patient embrace.

Linda on the Beach

Linda on the Beach By Denise Duhamel and Julie Marie Wade   |  November 30, 2015
We don’t know her, the woman who grins and waves as we wander north along Hollywood sand, bedsheets for yoga class billowing in our hands. But maybe, I think, we do know her from somewhere, and it’s not in our nature to be rude, so we wave, too. Linda is flapping like the lifeguard’s flag. Linda is talking about her lost keys, about her husband in the hospital, about the Marriott that won’t take her back now. We look at each other to acknowledge Linda is crazy, possibly homeless.

Peanut Butter

Peanut Butter By Dorothy Rice   |  November 23, 2015
What was that feeling last night, of chasing a thread of thought from sleep to wakefulness, back into sleep again, not quite sure at any moment whether I was fully awake

Here's What Happens

Here's What Happens By Catherine Klatzker   |  November 16, 2015
HERE’S WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU’RE WAITING FOR MORE TEST RESULTS FOR THE SUSPICIOUS SHADOW ON YOUR HUSBAND’S CHEST X-RAY: You give money to homeless people who say they want food. You stick around to talk to them when they seem lonely. You allow those drivers in traffic who are in such a rush to cut in ahead of you. You admit it’s not death that makes you shrivel into yourself and brings up those old whimpering voices pleading for safety; it’s dread of that conversation, of giving permission to one’s life partner to take that journey alone, without you.

In Perilous Times

In Perilous Times By Tami Mohamed Brown   |  November 9, 2015
The Frank Lloyd Wright calendar hangs askew on your cubicle wall, the citrus skylights of July turning right angles into August in an attempt to create unity on a Tuesday morning when you’re wearing stripes and your socks don’t match. Your feet rest on a coil of cords that tangle dangerously under the desk and your coffee cup sits too close to the keyboard without a cover. You shoot a rubber band at a window not meant to open. It’s eleven in the morning and you’ve already eaten lunch. These are signs that we are living in perilous times.

Best American Essays Notables 2015

Best American Essays Notables 2015 September 22, 2015
Congratulations to this year's BAE Notables, originally published in River Teeth!

The Smell of Old Books

The Smell of Old Books By Pia Ghosh Roy   |  August 3, 2015
There was a row of shops where the flyovers now swirl and swoop. The shops were cubes of tin and plywood on a strip of pavement in heaving, humid Calcutta. They stood under gulmohar trees; fire-red petals with shade as cool as coconut water. In this shade, on low wicker stools, sat the men who owned these shops, playing cards, passing time. They were gatekeepers of old books.


White By Jennifer Bowen Hicks   |  July 20, 2015
We no longer remember the sound of birdsong or the feel of dry pavement beneath our feet, but we walk to school anyway because school is the place we're meant to walk to on Tuesday mornings. Temperatures register -23 below zero if you don’t count the wind chill, and I always count the wind chill.

Why We're Here: River Teeth Nonfiction Conference 2015

Why We're Here: River Teeth Nonfiction Conference 2015 By Sarah Wells   |  May 21, 2015
One week out from the River Teeth conference, conference director Sarah M. Wells reflects on why we gather for writers' conferences.

A Walk on Wooded Isle

A Walk on Wooded Isle By Stephanie Friedman   |  April 20, 2015
Spring had been so long in coming. At last tree buds, gray-green and plump, were braving the frigid sunshine. I had left my office in only a thin windbreaker, with just my keycard in my pocket, my cold hands clasping the cuffs of my sleeves. I had intended to circuit the Japanese garden--gravel path, half-moon bridge, stepping stones across the dry pond--then go back to work. Instead I pressed on into the less kempt part of the park.

Surf Check

Surf Check By Heather Hansman   |  April 6, 2015
November on the coast. Cracking cold and painfully clear. We cram 12 of us in a one-bed cabin on the Quileute reservation, not caring about personal space or what is whose. In the morning we're up as soon as the sun starts to slide its slow half-circle around the horizon. It feels like you can see to Japan if your eyelashes don't freeze shut first. We pour weak coffee, put on puffies, and scramble stiff-legged over the driftwood toward the break.

Letter to a Ladle (Stainless Steel, $18.99, Purchased Three Years Ago)

Letter to a Ladle (Stainless Steel, $18.99, Purchased Three Years Ago) By Matthew Olzmann   |  March 30, 2015
How glorious: the invention of soup! How stunning: the invention of fire to heat the soup! I've watched the water boil. I've witnessed my wife and her designs of scallions and carrots. I've studied the smell of garlic and cayenne pepper. It filled our hallways with the history of our families. Not once--Dear Ladle--did you fail to do the one thing you do.


Grace By Aaron J. Housholder   |  March 9, 2015
"Thank you," I tell the manager, "for taking my order so late." The sizzle of the grill frames my words. "I appreciate it." "Not at all," he says. Sweat curls his hair. "Is a good time. We’re still open."


Army By Ron Riekki   |  February 23, 2015
In southern Spain, in the military, in December, I once danced in a field of sunflowers. Or not danced, so much as sang.

Motorcycle Riders

Motorcycle Riders By Liza Jagoda Allen   |  February 16, 2015
On the back of your motorcycle, somewhere between Leadville and Castle Rock, I plan our future together as we ride along jagged eggshell cliffs overlooking canyons whose gaping mouths open to swallow anything that falls.

Book Contest Update

February 7, 2015
Many people have contacted our office about the progress of this year's literary nonfiction book contest. Expect an announcement around the end of February or early March.

Night Dancing in the Kitchen

Night Dancing in the Kitchen By Chelsea Biondolillo   |  January 26, 2015
It was country-late: the air outside getting cool and damp and purple. I sat at my grandparent's dining table making clothespin dolls while the crickets whined and Teddy-dog sat by the back door smacking his muzzle at errant flies. The doll project made me feel like Laura Ingalls Wilder. I clipped red and white checks and velvet strips from grandma’s quilting stash.

Ira Sukrungruang's RT 16.1 essay, "A Meditation on Pain" featured on

Ira Sukrungruang's RT 16.1 essay, January 14, 2015
Longreads Member Pick on January 13, 2015.

2014 Pushcart Nominations

December 12, 2014
River Teeth editors are pleased to announce this year's Pushcart nominations.
Keywords: pushcart, river teeth

4th Annual Nonfiction Conference Will Feature Cheryl Strayed and Jerald Walker

4th Annual Nonfiction Conference Will Feature Cheryl Strayed and Jerald Walker October 16, 2014
The 4th annual River Teeth nonfiction conference will be May 29-31, 2015 on the Ashland University campus. Join us for readings, seminars, and manuscript consultations. Speakers and guests include perennial favorites as well as new faces to River Teeth.

Going Long, It's Tense, Research, Getting Connected, Reflection, Naming and more from #RTNC2014

Going Long, It's Tense, Research, Getting Connected, Reflection, Naming and more from #RTNC2014 June 27, 2014
Snippets, snapshots, and video from the River Teeth Nonfiction Conference

Why We're Here: Third Annual River Teeth Nonfiction Conference

Why We're Here: Third Annual River Teeth Nonfiction Conference By Sarah Wells   |  May 22, 2014
For as intimate and vulnerable as the writing process is, the process of sending my work out into the world for possible publication feels like the most distant and impersonal interaction there is between writer and reader. And yet, what is publishing our words except engaging in a broader conversation, contributing one voice to a river of voices?

Book Contest News

Book Contest News April 24, 2014
After a one-year hiatus, the River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Prize Series returns in full force, with a new publisher and a series judge.

Young Widower by John W. Evans Now Available

Young Widower by John W. Evans Now Available March 13, 2014
Now available from the University of Nebraska Press: Young Widower by John W. Evans, winner of the 2013 River Teeth Literary Nonfiction Book Prize


Carrot By Michelle Webster-Hein   |  February 28, 2014
Tonight I peeled and chopped carrots for dinner, tossed them with oil and thyme, oven-roasted them. The simpler the ingredient, the more miraculous it seems to me. A carrot. What must that have been like, on first discovery?


Nightwalk By Michelle Webster-Hein   |  February 27, 2014
I read a story once about a woman who gives herself over to the night. She encounters no one, just sneaks outside, surveys the dark desert, and comes back changed.


Cat By Michelle Webster-Hein   |  February 26, 2014
Since the birth of our daughter, I have been short with our cat. I shush her or toss her off counters and chairs. It seems to be all I can do. I am already being screamed for. I am already giving more of myself than I can give.


Silence By Michelle Webster-Hein   |  February 25, 2014
Today there was the slumbering hush of a house in the morning with everyone else asleep, then the vacant stillness of an empty house in the afternoon.

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